


Kinktober #6

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU, The Good Fight (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex, Smut, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26856709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Kinktober prompts:Kneefba - dirty talk, masturbation
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Brian Kneef
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: Kinktober 2020





	Kinktober #6

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatEsqCrush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatEsqCrush/gifts).



**You home?**

Barba frowned down at the text. It was almost 8pm, and it wasn’t as if he could go to a bar or restaurant or _anywhere_ with the current state of the world. **Yes** , he answered. No need to be antagonistic before he knew what Kneef wanted.

As if he couldn’t guess.

**Alone?**

_Not that it’s your business_ , Barba almost typed. Instead, he wrote: **Yes. Why?**

Kneef sent a link for a video chat.

Barba stared at it for several seconds, debating, before opening it. Kneef appeared on his screen, smirking, and Barba glared directly into his phone’s camera to ask: “Can I help you?”

Kneef was sitting on a sofa, leaned back, perfectly framed in the shot from the top of his head to just below his belly button. He was wearing a white shirt but it was unbuttoned, showing off the dark hair on his chest and the narrow trail running down out of sight at the bottom of the screen. His sleeves were rolled up, and Barba watched Kneef set his phone on the sofa and stretch an arm along the back of the cushions. The movement pulled the shirt wider, and Barba forced his eyes back up to the other man’s face.

Kneef’s right hand was out of sight below the frame. 

“Felt like saying hi,” Kneef said with a grin. 

“Hi,” Barba deadpanned.

“How was your day?” Kneef asked in an overly singsong voice.

“Shitty,” Barba admitted. 

“Mine, too. Case is kicking my ass.”

Barba was surprised by the candor, if only because Kneef wasn’t the type to show humility or admit to shortcomings. “So this is a professional consult?” Barba asked, unable to resist the chance to needle the other man a bit. 

“Ok, you got me. I’m horny as fuck.”

Barba wasn’t about to admit that the crude admission made his balls tighten and his cock twitch in interest. “So you called to share this charming piece of information with me, someone who’s eight hundred miles away?”

Kneef made a sound of impatience, frowning. “It’s not like I can go out and find an actual person to fuck.”

“You do know that _I_ am an actual person and not just your reflection in a mirror, right? Because I’m sure you have at least a dozen around your place that you can jerk off in front of.”

“Don’t be a fucking Pollyanna,” Kneef said, and Barba laughed in spite of himself. “We both know your feelings aren’t hurt.” He paused, his eyes scanning his computer screen, but Barba knew the other man could only see his face and shoulders, maybe a bit of his chest. “What’re you wearing?”

“T-shirt,” Barba said with a deliberate shrug.

“And what else?”

“Flannel pants.”

“Oh,” Kneef said, clearly disappointed. “Hoped you’d still be in your suit.”

“Why the fuck would I be sitting alone in my apartment at eight o’clock in a suit?”

“Right, forgot you’re an hour later. Well, maybe next time we can discuss attire. I like you in a suit.”

Barba didn’t bother mentioning that he hadn’t been in his suit at seven, either, and he didn’t object to the suggestion that there would be a _next time_. There was no point in saying something he might end up contradicting later. “Sorry, why did you call again? To bitch about my clothes?”

“God, you’re mouthy. I’d love to stuff my dick in your throat to shut you up.”

Barba smiled. “I think you’re overestimating your reach.”

“Hm. Next time I’m in New York.”

“I’m busy that day.”

Kneef laughed. “Come on, Barba, I know you’re getting hard. You might as well show me.”

“You first,” Barba answered. He was very interested in seeing what was happening outside the camera shot, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to play coy. Kneef was right: Barba was getting hard in his loose flannel pants. 

Kneef sighed and lowered his arm, leaning forward toward the camera. For a moment his forearm filled most of Barba’s screen while Kneef adjusted the angle of his laptop. When Kneef resettled back against the sofa, he’d moved the computer back a little and tilted the screen, framing himself from hairline to mid-thigh. 

He was wearing dark suit pants, opened wide at the fly. His cock, fully hard, stood at attention in the maw of the zipper, red and slick—and just as thick as Barba remembered. Barba shifted on his sofa, almost able to feel the other man stretching him open. He started to reach for himself with his free hand but stopped, very much aware of what could go wrong.

Barba debated whether it was worth the risk for a few minutes of fun. It wasn’t as if he needed anything from Kneef. Barba could turn off his phone and jack off into a washcloth; either way he’d be going to bed alone.

“If I find out there’s video, audio, even screenshots of this, we’ll learn very quickly which of us is a better lawyer,” he said, his tone making it abundantly clear that it wasn’t a contest he would lose.

“I haven’t forgotten you have a whole SVU squad in your back pocket,” Kneef answered. “Besides, I’m not that big an asshole.” He smiled at Barba’s skeptical look. “No evidence, I swear. Now let me see, I showed you mine.” 

Barba sighed and tipped his phone down so Kneef could see the bulge straining at his flannel.

“Knew it,” Kneef said, sounding entirely too smug. “Take it out for me.”

Barba ground his teeth at the command. He reached his hand into his pants and pulled himself free, allowing only a split second view before turning the camera back to his face. “Hmm, that does feel better,” he said, smirking when Kneef scowled. 

While Barba’d had his phone angled down, Kneef had apparently been busy stroking himself. Now he was stopped with his fist wrapped around his cock, shirt spread wide to show the whole expanse of his stomach, as he glared into his camera.

“Next time I see you, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t sit for a week.”

“That should make trials interesting,” Barba remarked drily. 

“Absolutely annihilate your ass.”

“You’re full of promises,” Barba said, glad Kneef couldn’t see his cock’s gleeful response to the threat. 

“I’ll fuck your throat until you can’t talk, then pound your ass until you can’t walk.”

“Poetic.”

Kneef had resumed stroking himself, and he spread his legs a little wider to ensure he was on full display for the camera. His balls were resting heavily in the V of his fly, perfectly framed by the nest of dark curls, and Barba was grudgingly impressed by the whole presentation. This clearly wasn’t Kneef’s first show.

“Come on. There must be something _you_ want.”

“From you?” Barba asked, watching Kneef drag a fist up and down his length and automatically matching the rhythm with his own hand. “Not that I can think of.”

“Funny,” Kneef said, but Barba didn’t bother looking up at the other man’s frown. Kneef’s hand was hypnotizing: each stroke started at his base, momentarily pressing his balls into the bite of his zipper before his hand slid upward, turning slightly on the way, tightening around his crown before reversing course with a quick thumb-swipe over his slit.

Barba watched this mesmerizing process, barely aware that he was copying it until Kneef’s hand suddenly stopped and Barba made an involuntary sound of annoyance. His eyes flicked up to Kneef’s face to find him looking both smug and impatient.

“You obviously like what you see. Give me something to work with.”

“You seem to be doing okay,” Barba answered, and Kneef laughed. Barba looked at the other man’s hand, unmoving around the base of his cock, and said, “Fine, alright.” He tipped his phone down to show his erection, ignoring the swift rush of heat that filled his face as he did. After a moment’s thought, he lifted his hand to his mouth to quickly wet his palm.

He gave himself several slow strokes for Kneef’s benefit, but with his phone angled down he couldn’t see the other man. _Next time, I use my laptop_ , Barba thought. 

He stretched his arm to let it rest on the armrest of the sofa, turning his phone a little until he managed to get both his face and dick in the shot. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but he knew he didn’t have to hold it for long.

“Mm yeah, that’s good,” Kneef said, his hand suddenly working quickly up and down his shaft, flattening his balls with each rough downstroke. “Much better. Let me see all of you, let me see you come.”

Barba’s hand moved slower than Kneef’s, no longer matching his rhythm, but he could feel his balls drawing up inside his pants, could feel the heat building in his groin and creeping up his cock. “You first,” he said.

“Gonna come in your ass,” Kneef said, jerking himself without finesse, now. “Come on your face. _Fuck_. Open your mouth for me.”

Barba parted his lips before he could second guess or give in to embarrassment, and his own cock throbbed at Kneef’s guttural sound of approval. Barba let his mouth fall open wider; they’d reached the point of no return, now, and there was no use in pretending.

“Tongue,” Kneef said, and Barba obeyed, letting his tongue hang over his lower lip. “Fuck yeah,” Kneef breathed. His hips suddenly bucked up off the couch as he drove himself into his fist, once and then again, and his head dropped back against the cushions as he came all over his stomach and chest, streaking his skin and dark chest hair with wet strands that glistened in the light. 

Barba came with less force, tremors rippling through him and tightening his muscles as he spilled himself over his fist, onto his stomach and the waistband of his pants. His phone slipped from his unsteady fingers and dropped facedown onto the armrest, thankfully not tumbling to the floor, and he swore softly as he fumbled to snatch it up.

He was breathing heavily as his body sagged into the cushions. He held the phone over himself, assuring Kneef a generous closeup of Barba’s cum-streaked fist squeezing and working out a final spurt, and then he sighed and let his messy hand fall palm up onto his thigh. He brought the camera, a bit shakily, around to his face.

Kneef was leaned back, legs spread wide, chest gleaming wetly, one arm bent up behind his head and the other stretched over the armrest. He looked entirely satisfied, and Barba couldn’t fault him for the smugness of his smile. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and Barba couldn’t even bring himself to regret giving in so easily.

But, he could make sure he had the last word. 

“Next time email the link so I can use my laptop,” he said, disconnecting in the middle of Kneef’s laugh.


End file.
